


False Imprisonment

by xenobia4



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Beating, Blood, Blood and Injury, Branding, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Whipping, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> I love Balthier so much! He's my favourite FFXII character, so of COURSE I'd do a fanfic about him being tortured.   
> Only makes sense, yeah?
> 
> Time frame for this is post-game and it takes place in Rozarria.   
> Since we know nothing about Rozarria, the names are made up (clearly).
> 
> Anywho! Please read and enjoy!

**1**

**Capture**

Balthier grunted as another loud crack resounded throughout the area. He cringed as he felt a trail of warm blood slither down his back. Not one to show his emotions, he clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply as another lash was strewn across his bare back. He slumped and swallowed; breath fast and rigid. He groaned when the pain ceased momentarily. He shook his head.

“Something the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve tired yourself out,” he spoke calmly, even giving the position he was currently in.

“Shut your mouth, thief,” the lasher barked at him in a deep voice as he crack the thick, leather whip.

Balthier slumped against the chains that bound his wrists above his head, his energy depleting as the supposed “interrogation” continued. Somehow or other, just when he and Fran decided to take their scavenger hunts to the territories of Rozarria, Balthier was accused of thievery of a high prized item and was arrested on false pretenses. After confiscating the _Strahl_ , hopes of returning back to Dalmasca in search of aid was lost and Fran was trying to find some form or law that would help release the falsely accused sky pirate. By day three, it was apparent that hope was failing.

In the meantime, Balthier was trying to be forced into making a confession – the result in a confession would mean either life imprisonment by the Rozarrian Empire or, better yet, the worse being sentenced to death. Refusing to take any part of either, Balthier’s condition was somewhat lacking in the ability to confess.

He shifted and tried to use some of his remaining strength to hoist himself at least in a somewhat standing position. After taking another deep breath, he looked up at the clouded sky, failing to see any way out of his current situation.

“I’m no thief,” he said as he glanced back as much as he could at his captor. “I’m a sky pirate. And, honestly, I have not the slightest clue as to what I stole, exactly. Seeming as how you happened to confiscate my airship before I managed to see anything worth my while.”

The only reply he received was the whip cracking against his skin once more. Being publicly tortured in front of other inmates was to the least of his fancy and he rather disliked the consistent mocks and laughter he received. The platform he was currently bound to was one that was much used more or less for hangings, set up in the centre of circle-like prison for all captivators to witness. It was at this that he mused to himself _, At least this isn’t a public execution_.

As he let out a small chuckle at the thought, his mental entertainment was cut short as the leather bit at his skin once again, this time managing to strike the same spot as the previous one, making the slash that much deeper. As his energy continued to drain, he was not sure how much longer he would be able to endure the pain before finally falling into a dark abyss. At least, had that have been the case he would not have to put up with these nonsense accusations for a few hours.

“Want to confess yet, thief? Or can you handle another six lashings?” At this, the lasher smirked, letting out a low laugh.

Balthier swallowed hard. “If I knew what exactly it was I was confessing to, then yes. But seeming as how I have yet to do anything illegal, I’d rather not.”

This statement did not go over well with his captor and the whip flew down on his back yet again, this time sending a more painful lash across the middle of his back. It took all what was left of his remaining energy not to shout out in shear agony, his back red, bleeding, and raw from the past few days of nonstop lashings. Only five more to go before he was returned to his cell where he could at least rest for a bit – uncomfortably, but surely. However, the next five seem to drag on forever, whereas the man continued to drive the whip faster and harder with each crack.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours, the rope and chain were untied from his wrists and he was carried back to his cell by two armed guards. When they arrived at the destination, they tossed him carelessly inside and shut and bolted the iron-gated door. He lay there in the sand on the floor of his cell and took in deep breaths, trying to conjure up enough strength to at least shift to sit against a cluster of partial ruins but naught a few feet away. Next to his cell were two others, one on each side and each with a few members of the prison. He heard snickering to his left and just as he managed to lift himself to his forearms, he turned his head to see a rather large, bulky man grinning at him as he leaned against the bars that separated them.

“Refused to confess again today, eh?” He laughed as he shook his head. “By the time they’re through with you, there won’t be anything left.” This man seemed oddly amused at the other’s suffering.

“If I had something to confess to,” Balthier started as he tried to climb to his feet. He managed to make it to all fours before shifting and standing, stumbling slightly when he got a head rush. “Then I probably would have. At least by those matters, I would know what in the world I had stolen that everyone seems so intent on blaming me for.”

The man raised a brow as he stared intently at the sky pirate. He nodded before shaking his head. “You have a smart mouth. If I were you, I’d think about keeping it shut before someone decides to shut it for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, leaning with his shoulder against the small solid rock portion in the corner of the cell. He closed his eyes, wondering if it were possible to fall asleep in such a position. After taking a few deep breaths and stabilizing his breathing, he managed to drift off into a sleep, as non-peaceful as it may have been.

* * *

As Basch roamed around the courtyard of the main tower, he spotted Larsa peering outside the gothic-styled arch into one of the Archadian cities. His armour clinked as he approached the now thirteen-year-old emperor. As of late, with the war over and ceremonies honouring those that perished completed, there was little left to accomplish around the empire, other than making sure the order stayed intact. With the free time, Basch usually found the young emperor in the courtyard, staring out into the city on bright, sunlit days.

“Something on your mind, my Lord?” Basch asked from behind him.

For the moment, Larsa stayed silent as he peered out of the arch. He released a sigh and shook his head.

“On the contrary.” Basch gave him a slightly confused look. “Archadia and Rozarria are at peace; Dalmasca is back to being an independent nation; Lady Ashe is well, as so she contacted me earlier this week.” He turned to Basch and allowed a smile to grace his lips. “We are truly at peace, are we not?”

Basch returned the smile and nodded.

“That we are, my Lord…. That we are.”

There was a sound of footsteps coming from behind as another armour-suited Judge walked into the courtyard, his helmet held fast under his arm. He bowed when he saw Larsa, saying ‘sir’ before standing straight and directing his attention to Basch.

“Gabranth,” he said quickly as the other Judge looked at him curiously. “There is a message for you from a Dalmascan – Lady Penelo, as I came to understand it.”  

Basch exchanged looks and stepped forward, accepting the envelope handed to him by the other Judge. “Thank you,” Basch replied, bowing his head slightly.

“Many welcomes,” the other replied as he turned and exited the courtyard in an elegant manner.

Basch stared at the letter in his hand, wondering what could have been to such an importance that would cause Penelo to send him a letter – a sealed, private matter it must have been, whereas it was sealed tight with a wax seal with the Dalmascan emblem. He slid his finger under the seal and slid the envelope open; he extracted the paper within and unfolded it, reading over the words carefully. Larsa watched as Basch’s eyebrows knitted together in what seemed to be a slight aggravation and concern. He folded the letter back up and glanced to Larsa.

“Apparently there is a problem ensuing in Rozarria that might need further inspection.”

Seeing the curious look on Larsa’s face, Basch held out the letter to allow him to read it; Larsa accepted with no hesitation and read through it. When he finished, he handed the letter back to Basch and adverted his head off to the side, as if thinking on the matter. After a moments pause, Larsa looked up at Basch and nodded.

“I see no other option,” he said sternly. “We must be off to Rozarria as soon as possible – I can see it in your face as well. You doubt it, do you not?”

Basch nodded. “Aye, my Lord. Nevertheless, you cannot leave Archadia without supervision.”

At this, Larsa nodded and seemed to ponder what his guardian just said. Finally coming to a conclusion, he stared back up Basch and shook his head. “However, someone must go and resolve this obvious misunderstanding. Judge Rosenburg, might I ask a favour of you?” He nodded and Larsa continued. “Would you travel to Rozarria to claim innocence and return back to Archadia?”

“Of course, my Lord. But what of you? I cannot very well leave your side unattended,” he replied, a concerned look playing on his face.

“Please,” the young emperor continued, “there are many others that are able to watch after my presence. I do not require a constant bodyguard.” At the end of his sentence, Larsa smirked slightly and Basch could not help but to chuckle at the comment. 

“Quite right, sir.”

* * *

Figuring it would be better to arrive by regular flight than by an Archadian airship, Basch boarded the flight to Rozarria, dressing in the complete suit of armour, noting that he was, indeed, an Archadian Judge. Seeing this in Rozarria, he assumed he could gain access to the imprisoned sky pirate. He took the letter out once again and read it back over, not exactly sure he caught the full meaning. The letter was addressed from Penelo, but she spoke of receiving an unnamed letter that turned to be from Fran, asking if there was anything that could be done.

His eyes reread the words on the paper:

_Basch,_

_I know that getting a letter to you is easier than having one sent to Larsa, since it more than likely would not make it to Larsa until a week from today – what with security measures and whatnot. Besides, I’m sure he has enough to deal with and does not need any other burdens on his shoulders at the moment._

_However, there is a problem. I received a short, scribbled letter from Fran stating that she and Balthier are in Rozarria. Apparently, Balthier’s been accused of thievery and has been taken to a Rozarrian prison somewhere in the middle of a desert. Their airship’s been confiscated and at the moment they’re not allowing free-ranged airships into their territory. Vaan and I have already tried without luck and now the ship’s failed and we’re in the midst of repairing it. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but just to be safe, is there any possible way you are able to get Balthier out of prison? Whether or not he truly stole something (and knowing how he is, he more than likely did), is beside the point._

_The exact location of the prison Fran did not send, but they’re not allowing her to leave the territory either. That’s the gist of it…and all the information she had sent me._

_If you are able, please check and help him if needed._

_Current Ship-Hoarder,_

_Penelo_

He folded the letter back up and placed it back inside the slit of his armour. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, wondering why the sky pirate always had to get into some form of trouble or other no matter where he went. It was only a few months ago that they discovered he was, indeed alive and quite well. Basch had only met up with him twice since then: he came to Ashe’s coronation and then a few weeks later delivered a rare find to Larsa, figuring the young emperor deserved a small trinket of gratitude.

Since, however, no one had really heard from him or Fran other than Penelo and Vaan who would occasionally go with them on hunts for some treasure. He figured that Balthier would more than likely return whatever it was he had stolen and be released from the prison and when he, Basch, arrived, he would find a quirky sky pirate who once again escaped trouble by only the nicks of his hair.

As the aircraft began pulling into a port, Basch stood and began heading to the exit door – there were not many people coming to the empire, mainly those that were either visiting or returning. As he abandoned the aircraft, he was greeted by three Imperials of the Rozarrian Empire. They approached him and bowed.

“Judge Gabranth,” the one in the middle spoke as he stood straight. “We were notified of your arrival and asked to greet you here at the docks. What brings you to Rozarria on such little notice?” The imperial’s accent was a think Spanish accent, much like that of Al-Cid, who too was a Rozarrian – oddly enough, one of the only ones Basch had met face-to-face.

Basch shifted his helm under his arm and gave a slight bow before replying. Given the conditions, he assumed the politer he was, the higher the chances he had for figuring out exactly what the situation was with Balthier and Fran.

“I am here strictly by orders of Lord Larsa to uncover a greater aspect of the situation with the Archadian sky pirate that we hear is currently under your guard.” He hoped the way he worded his phrase would allow the imperials to give him more information, and if they had none to supply, perhaps they would take him to someone who might be able to assist his need.

Suddenly, the imperial’s face grew stern and he stood completely straight, arching his back in the process. He cleared his throat before replying. “The sky pirate is currently held in the capitol prison and is allowed no company until given confession.”

After his reply, the imperial gave a hard swallow when he saw the obvious annoyed expression on Basch’s face. He shook his head and continued, “However, given the circumstances that you are an official Judge of Archadia, permission of law allows you visitation rights.”

Basch inwardly smirked, seeing what just a look can do. It was obvious that this imperial was a bit new to the job; otherwise, he would have suggested seeing a Rozarrian Judge. Nevertheless, the imperial took him outside the docks and asked if he was comfortable riding a chocobo to the middle sands where the prison lie. Basch reported this would be no problem and within minutes he was on back of a chocobo and headed off towards the Rozarrian Capital Prison.


	2. Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.

**2**

**Witness**

There were shouts and yells amongst the prison when a fight broke out between two inmates. After a guard was injured when they tried to intervene, there was more bloodshed as they two continued to fight back and forth, one of them having taken out the unconscious guard’s weapon and beating the other repetitively over the head. Not all of the guards carried about guns and swords as their weapons – mainly only higher-ups who had the joy of carrying or assisting the inmates back to cells. Otherwise, the ‘watchdogs,’ as most referred to them as, carried around blunt wooden weapons, nevertheless, they were quite dense; enough to cause serious injuring if needed.

Balthier, however, cared to take no part in watching the bloody brawl as he stood leaning against the wall, trying to block out the shouts. The consistent burning and stinging from the lashes on his back were not allowing any comfort as he tried to get at least some amount of rest. Lying down was not an option; the sand grains in fresh wounds…. He shuddered at the thought and tried his best to get comfortable while standing. He was distracted as the bulky inmate to his left continued to stare at him through the bars, a strange grin on his face – the same one he had been giving the sky pirate for the past twenty minutes. He shifted as he tried to ignore him, not feeling the need to get himself into any more trouble. He was in enough of that as it was – last thing he needed was an inmate wanting to bash his head in with one of those blunt sticks.

Just as he felt himself drift into a slight sleep, the inmate laughed suddenly, though not truly a laugh, more like a scoff. He nodded his head to the man on the other side before speaking.

“If you want to come over here, I bet I can take that back pain of yours away,” he said, that smirk still on his face.

Without even opening his eyes, Balthier replied. “I’d rather not.”

The guy paused before continuing to speak. “What? You’d prefer to stand there and do nothing?” This question was purely rhetorical, but nevertheless, Balthier answered.

“Very much so. Besides, I very much doubt I’d be any more entertained over there than I am standing right here.”

“I can that put boredom to good use.”

“I highly doubt that.”

The guy scoffed and racked the iron bars that separated him from the sky pirate. “You’re a spoiled little thief, aren’t you?” Not waiting for a smart-mouthed reply, he turned and walked to a different part of his cell, out of Balthier’s sight. He was quite thankful for that.

He yawned and turned to face the opposite direction, his back towards the opposite cell. From a little ways away, between the shouts of the other inmates, he could hear the sound of a clanking steel suit of armour.

_Just what everyone needs. Rozarrian imperials ought to shut them right up_ , he thought, wishing that they would have done so sooner. However, that was not the case and as the clanking metal came closer, he heard it stop right outside of his own cell.

“Wake up, thief,” someone said; their accent thick.

He groaned, realizing that it was nothing more than a heavy armoured guard. However, Balthier did not bother to open his eyes.

“Is it time already?” he replied in a sarcastic manner.

He felt a sudden jolt in his side as the guard jabbed him beneath the ribs with the stick-like weapon. Yet, when Balthier’s eyes jerked open, it was not the guard that was wearing a heavy suit of armour; the guard was dressing much like the other commons guards. The one dressed in all armour was none other than Basch fon Ronsenburg. Once Balthier was jerked out of the small amount of rest he had had, the guard nodded in approval and looked to the Judge.

“Be quick.”

Basch nodded and the guard turned, shouting for all the other inmates to ‘quiet themselves’ as he walked away from the duo to try and split up the brawl going on three cells down. The Judge shook his head before turning to look at Balthier who was giving a slightly queried look. There was a moments pause before either one spoke.

“So, what might I ask brings you to this wonderful paradise?” Balthier asked as he looked around his cell.

Basch frowned slightly. “A message from Penelo speaking of your current situation.” Balthier only shrugged. “Word has it that you have stolen a prized item. Would it be too much to ask of you to give complete detail on how you managed to end up here?”

Balthier shook his head. “Not at all.” At his carefree reply, Basch gave him a somewhat annoyed look, but waited for him to continue. “Quite a misunderstanding really.”

At this, the Archadian Judge raised a brow. “How so?”

“Simple. I have not stolen anything as of late. Why, Fran and I had barely stepped foot on Rozarrian soil when we were ambushed by a group of imperials. They confiscated the _Strahl_ and arrested me on false charges. What more is there to know?” He saw the look the older man was giving him and shrugged. He had a sense that Basch did not believe his words and claims of innocence. He sighed and shook his head. “You know me not.”

“It would appear as such.”

Balthier gave no reply; he only released a breath of air and looked down at the sands beneath his feet. There was a loud clanging on the metal bars that separated his cell from the other cells around him. Both he and Basch turned and adverted their eyes to the cell on the right. Apparently, another brawl broke out between the occupants of the cell and it did not appear as though anyone was winning. One of the inmates bashed the other’s head against the bars, his head making a crack as it hit them. Basch turned and saw a guard running towards the cell. He pulled out his baton and began banging it on the barred door.

“Knock it off in there!” he yelled at the two.

It had no effect and they continued to go at it, fists making contact with flesh and bones. The cheering shouts and yells in the prison became more pronounced when this second fight broke out and they continued to cheer it on.

“They act like that of animals,” Basch commented and Balthier only nodded in agreement.

“And not just the inmates, either.”

Basch jerked his head and looked back to the sky pirate, wanting to ask, but not feeling the need to press matters. He cleared his throat, getting Balthier’s attention. He glanced off over Basch’s shoulder before quickly looking back to the Judge.

“So, do tell me you’re here to tell me they’ve proclaimed my innocence,” he spoke rather hastily. At his actions, Basch could not help but raise a brow. He shook his head, slightly bothered at his manner.

“Balthier….”

“Time’s up, thief,” a guard spoke from behind Basch. He came up to the iron gate and took out a double-sided key. He inserted the key into the lock and Balthier could not help but release a sigh. Basch looked to the guard who was accompanied by two others – the others, however, were armed with guns rather than the baton the lesser guards were equipped with. As he opened the gate, Basch directed his attention to the guard.

“Is he being released?” he asked, obviously confused as to what was going on.

At this, the guard snorted as he opened the door. The two armed guards stepped into the cell and grabbed the brunette’s arms; forcing them behind his back, they bound his wrists with rope and shoved him out of the cell. He grunted as he stumbled forward before looking back at them and shaking his head.

“Careful. Quite fragile, you know.”

“Where are you taking him?” Basch asked and the lesser guard turned to face him.

“Interrogation.”

It was a simple answer and one that left Basch deeply concerned. As they turned and began heading off, the shouts and cheers that had somewhat subsided picked back up again, this time louder than before. It was at this moment that Basch caught a glimpse of the sky pirate’s back – the long gashes that were strewn over and over, some still bleeding. His pulse quickened and as the cellmates in the other chambers roared, he turned his head to look at a rather bulky inmate – the same inmate that was in the cell to the left.

“You,” he called to the whooping inmate. The man turned his attention to the Archadian Judge. “Where are they taking him?”

At the comment, the imprisoned only laughed, mocking how clueless the Judge was. “Where they take everyone they ‘interrogate.’ To the platform so everyone can hear their public confession…when they make one that is.”

“By what means?”

This caused the inmate to smirk. “It is a “public” confession,” he said simply as he turned in his cell and walked to the back, to another set of iron bars that blocked the exit. Every cell in the prison was designed in the same manner. To the front of the cell was the interior hall, where inmates were hauled to and from almost daily. It was this area the guards patrolled. However, to the back of each cell, a clear view of the platform was their scenery. From this angle, every prisoner could witness another either being publicly executed or giving a public confession. For those in the main interior, the platform was unable to be seen from the angle.

Basch inhaled and stepped into the empty cell of Ffamran mied Bunansa, seeing clearly the platform at which the inmate spoke of. Currently, the only one on or near the platform was a bangaa standing in lightweight armour with a side pocketed dagger and, what appeared to be a whip that was attached to the other side of the uniform. There was a loud bang that sounded as though a large door slammed open. The cheers and shouts from the inmates seemed to intensify ten-fold and Basch’s eyes adverted to the only movement in the area – Balthier was being escorted, one might say, to the platform, his forearm being gripped rather tightly. The armed guard practically had to drag the sky pirate up the wooden stairs to reach the base of the platform and when they managed to reach the top, he shoved Balthier in front of him, under the wooden pole that had a chain and a rope attached to the very top. The guard grabbed the rope and tied it through the rope that was already binding his wrists. Along with that, he took the chain and attached it to the rope, giving it a hard tug and making sure it was firmly in place. He went around the side and cranked a lever that had Balthier’s arms raised above his head, escape now futile.

As the guard stepped off to the side, the bangaa stepped forward and unraveled a thick, leather whip. He cracked the whip once, causing louder whoops and yells to be heard from the inmates that surround the dome like arena. He watched as Balthier’s expression became tense. He tensed his jaw and shut his eyes, balling his hands into fists, waiting for the first strike. He was given one last chance to confess, and when he did not, the bangaa pulled his arm back and sent the leather whip slashing against the other’s back. Basch could only stand there in the empty cell and watch in horror as his own ally was mercilessly tortured in front of hundreds of humes – the entire Rozarrian prison.

As the leather continually cracked against the bare skin of his comrade, the Archadian Judge was unable to move and watched, horrorstruck, as Balthier’s energy began to drain. With each lash, his face was overcome with immense pain, but not even once did he yell out.

At the end of it all, the binds were removed and two armed guards grabbed each of the sky pirate’s forearms, dragged him down the stairs of the platform and there was a crash as the door slammed shut. The other prison mates had practically gone wild while they watched, and when it ended, mocks were made. Basch basically glided out of the cell and looked around; waiting for the two guards to return, and hoped that Balthier was at least all right. After what he just witnessed, he could not imagine that had been done to him more than once…but even he knew it had been.

Finally, the two guards returned and practically threw him into his cell, slamming the iron door shut and locking it. As one of the guards walked away, the other turned to face Basch.

“He’s all yours, now.”

With that, he turned on his heel and followed after his comrade. 

Basch jerked his head towards the prisoner who was trying to gather back to his feet. When he did manage to stand up, he stumbled slightly before shaking his head and turning to face the Judge. He sighed.

“Now...what was it we were discussing?”

Basch did not reply, only gave him a remorseful look.

“Balthier…”

“That is what they call me,” Balthier said as he waved his hand in a slight circular motion.

Once again, the Judge fell silent. The other only shrugged, waiting for him to speak.

“Just make the confession and get it over with.”

Both turned to look at the speaker – the same man in the cell to the left. Balthier sighed and shook his head.

“I believe I’ve already said that I would not confess to something which I did not commit.”

The man only scoffed as he usually did. “Yeah, well, innocent or not, I very highly doubt they care to find out. They just want your confession so they can keep you here like the rest of us.”

Balthier shrugged. “Lovely.”

“Have it your way then, thief.” With that said, the guy walked to another area of his cell, out of sight.

The sky pirate turned back to Basch who had just adverted his own eyes away from that area. The Judge shifted his helm under his other arm before speaking once more.

“You are truly innocent...” he said, trailing off as he looked at the brunette.

“It’s about time you figured that out. I thought I’d have to be here all evening trying to convince you differ.”

Basch looked downwards for a moment, seeming to think on something rather intently before he brought his gaze back to the other. At first, he said nothing, but after another moments pause, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“For how long have you taken residence in this prison?”

“Well I don’t very much like to think of this as my residence,” he replied with a raised brow. “But I do believe it has been three days…perhaps four? Why do you ask?”

Basch did not reply, only stared at Balthier. It took a moment, but it finally clicked why Basch was giving him such a look. He shook his head and glanced off to the side.

“Since the first day?” the older man asked with a light tone. He watched as Balthier nodded his head without looking at him; his expression still calm. It was amazing how this man rarely changed his expressions. In certain aspects, it would not be such a bad thing if he were to show more emotion than he usually did.

“Where’s Fran?” Basch asked as he peered at Balthier through the bars, trying to get the conversation away from the current on hand.

At this question, Balthier only shrugged and walked towards the back of the cell. “Not the slightest idea. Seeming as how I have yet to hear from her, one might suppose she has yet to find a fluke to rid me of this prison.”

“Apologies,” the older man said, slightly bowing his head.

Balthier looked at him and raised a brow. “What of?”

The Archadian Judge looked at him with slight remorse. “As of yet there is nothing in the Rozarrian laws that state they must release one of false accusations without confirming innocence. Or that another empire is able to take their own citizen to be tried on home land.”

There was a long pause before Balthier released a sigh and glanced off to the side. “No. I suppose there would not be such a law.” He turned and Basch winced when his eyes landed upon the whip lashings across the sky pirate’s back – some were at such a depth that they would become scars once they were able to heal. However, less they could prove his innocence or he confessed to that which he took no part of, the wounds would have naught a chance to heal any time soon. Feeling the stares, Balthier turned back to face him and he crossed his arms.

“So, have you an idea how much longer I must endure this nonsense?”

Sensing that Balthier was trying to cover some hidden shame, Basch shook his head and looked to the side. “I know not,” he said sadly. “But I will promise you this,” he continued as he looked back to the brunette, “I will see that you are released an innocent man, or so, I do suppose the Rozarrians wish to keep peace with Archadia.”

Balthier walked back to the barred door that blocked his exit, keeping him separate from the Judge. “I believe I should thank you properly, then,” he replied, staring into the other’s face.

“Knowing you are safe is thanks enough,” the other said, bowing his head.

Balthier smirked slightly before he continued. “I’ll do well to remember that next time trouble arises.”

Basch shook his head. As silence ensued, a guard came up to the Judge. As he adverted his gaze to the guard, Balthier stared up and off to the side in the opposite direction.

“By head of counsel, I’m asked that you leave the premises,” the guard said as he saluted the Archadian Judge. “Rozarrian laws state that one is only allowed fifteen minutes to visit with an accused.”

Basch nodded and the guard took a step back, waiting for Basch to turn so as to follow him out of the prison. Basch turned back to face Balthier and shook his head solemnly.

“It would appear I must take leave.”

“As it would seem,” the sky pirate replied, moving his head downwards, but his eyes upwards to stare at the other.

Basch did a slight bow before turning and following after the guard who began walking away. He stopped short and glanced back to Balthier who had turned towards the back of his cell, staring out to the platform that he definitely felt no need to return to.


	3. Cellblock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.

**3**

**Cellblock**

“So you are aware of our dilemma.”

“Very much so.”

The reply came back in a thick Spaniard accent. Al-Cid sat behind a large desk, his fingers laced and his chin sitting upon them. Figuring that perhaps the head of Rozarria might be able to have a hand in proclaiming the sky pirate’s innocence, Basch went to see Al-Cid in hopes of some assistance. Yet, even Al-Cid could have naught to do with the release of Balthier and Basch was beginning to wonder if he could do anything at all.

“You see, my hands are tied and I cannot have a hand in the laws of the Rozarrian Capitol Prison.”

Basch released a sigh and shook his head before looked back to the head.

“Yet there must be something that you are able to do. As head of Rozarria, you are also in charge of the prisons in the region? How are you able to naught have charge?”

At this, Al-Cid sighed and put his hands down, taking to his feet. He walked to the front of the desk before leaning back on, arms crossed.

“The prison itself has its own head and that area of law does not rest in my hands. I cannot make an exception to this law under any circumstances without being condemned by the council.”

“Even if the man they have accused is innocent?”

“Even more-so. Until innocence is proven, the law abides that one is a condemner until proven to be otherwise stated. I have no say in how this law is carried out – wrongfully or other.”

There was a long moment of silence as Basch tried to take in everything which he just heard. In Archadia the law was the exact opposite: one was innocent until proven to be otherwise. But even still, the more they dawdled, the more likely that Balthier’s fate would be chosen for him.

“Judge Gabranth, I do have one small query to which I must ask.” When Basch nodded, Al-Cid continued. “Have they yet to discover what this item was that was taken?”

Basch shook his head. “No. I do not even believe that Balthier himself knows of this prized item which they claim he has stolen.”

“I see…,” he trailed off as he put his hand to his face, obviously lost in thought. When he came back to his senses, he looked up at the Judge. “Well then, I will see if I can set up a meeting between you and the head of prison. Maybe you will be able to convince them that our sky pirate is indeed without fault. But I do tell you now that just being a sky pirate is reason enough for them to find damnation against him.”

Basch raised a brow. “Why would that be? Certainly there is no fault with such a matter.”

Al-Cid sighed. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to find a way to word what he wished to say. With all respect, he did not know if there was a way to word it correctly…or at least lightly. Finally, he shook his head and stared at the Judge.

“Choosing such a…a path to follow; most of the council frowns down upon the mere thought of a sky pirate and they will do anything to make sure he is thrown in a prison. Even you know that those that are such take pride, yes?” He watched as Basch nodded. “However, throughout Rozarria, most of the destinations one is to travel will discover that practice to be impugned. Very few people of that profession reside here in Rozarria and if they do, they try to avoid being noticed at all costs. The way that even the imperials see them is nothing more than scum set out to take the most treasured of their items with no moral value whatsoever.”

Basch sighed and looked off to the side. “He is damned, then. But,” he looked back to Al-Cid. “There must be something that can be done to assure his release?”

The other shook his head. “I will make naught a guarantee as to that; nevertheless, I will see what I can do.”

Basch bowed. “I thank you.”

* * *

_Crack!_

Balthier slumped against his binds the moment the last lash hit his skin. Besides being in this situation for accusations, he received a lovely forty extra lashings for hitting a prison guard. Give or take, he had every right to. A fight had broken out while he was on his way to the platform and when the guards opened the inmate’s cell, one of them hit the guard, grabbed his weapon and, after repeatedly hitting the guard with his own weapon, took off running out of his cell. He ended up running right into the two guards that were assisting Balthier to the platform and when he was trying to get the guy off of him, Balthier ended up punching a guard in the groin.

When the bangaa that performed the ‘ _interrogation_ ’ was informed about Balthier’s actions, the sentence was forty lashings on top of the twelve he received to aid in his confession. He was barely twenty lashes in when he began drifting in and out of consciousness. The repetition of the slashes across his already red and bleeding back was increasing in pain tenfold and he was not sure how much longer he could withstand. He grunted again when the whip made contact and his eyes stung from holding back. He hoped that he would pass out just so he could avoid the pain; but the hoarder knew better and every time Balthier would drift off, they struck the whip as hard as they could.

By the end, Balthier could not even stand and had it not been for the fact that he was carried back to his cell, he would have been unconscious on the platform itself. The cell door opened and he was tossed in. Unlike before, he did not bother to try and force himself to stand. He was oddly comfortable in the position he was in and had no trace of want to shift in the slightest. He did not even bother to look up at the usual inmate who felt the need to mock him the moment he reentered his cell each and every time.

“You do realize that at the rate you’re going, you’re not gonna last another round,” they started. “You’ll end up dead before you even confess. Just do it and get it over with – whether or not you stole anything.”

“If I…do that,” Balthier began between breaths, “I’ll…never be pardoned….”

“And you’d rather die than just fake a confession?” Though it was a question, the guy stated it more like a sentence. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Thought, I’ll admit, I bet it would give this prison higher ranks if they were able to imprison and condemn a sky pirate.” The guy suddenly began laughing. “You’re never going to get your pardon! I’d give up now while you’re able.”

When he finished his statement, he turned and walked back to the other side of his cell.

Balthier thought on this matter for a bit before the fatigue washed over him and he fell in unconsciousness.

* * *

“If one were to discover we were one in the same, a way out may become an unavailable option.”

“And until then?”

“Our paths are separate and shall remain so. A flaw is unable to be found.”

After talking with Al-Cid, Basch left to visit the local tavern and see if he could upturn any information about the laws of Rozarria, yet surprise found him when he discovered a vierra doing the exact same. When he did manage to locate Fran, he went to see if she found any useful information from the locals, only to discover she had as much luck as he did. Nevertheless, it was from her he discovered the full story of what had happened and it was this way that he discovered how Balthier had explained it was no less than covering the truth.

It was true, yes, that it had not been more than a few minutes that he and Fran were in Rozarria that Balthier was arrested, but there was more to it than that – much more.

When they were trying to land the _Strahl_ , the area had become blocked off and they were forced to make their landing in the sands of the Rozarria desert. Before they were even able to land the airship, Rozarrian imperials had the airship surrounded. When Balthier and Fran stepped out, they told the male sky pirate that he was being arrested for stealing from a Rozarrian Judge and since the military in Rozarria held just as much political power as the ruler himself, there truly was nothing Al-Cid could do.

When he claimed he stole nothing and tried to resist, the imperials became violent and after having practically having him down where he had no energy to move, they reported to Fran that if she tried anything, she would be tried as an accomplice. As Balthier was taken to the prison, the imperials “escorted” her on an imperial ship back to the city and she was told that the _Strahl_ would be held until further notice.

With things going as they were, odds were that Balthier would be convicted and forced to spend the remainder of his time in a capitol prison.

Basch shook his head.

“I must go.”

“Back to the prison?” she asked, though it was more of a statement. He nodded. “I will continue to aid in search, but I do not promise anything.”

“Many thanks.”

And with that, he turned on heel and left the tavern, wondering if he could get back in to check on the sky pirate’s condition.

* * *

The brunet awoke to a sharp, searing pain in the middle of his back. His throat tensed and he wanted to yell out in pain, but his pride would not allow it and he jerked his head to see the legs of a guard.

“Wake up, thief,” they said as they dug the heel of their boot harder into the sky pirate’s back.

“I’d gladly stand if someone was not trying to break my spine,” came his reply, his usual sarcastic tone flooding his voice.

This was answered by the guard lifting their foot and then slamming back down onto the mid-portion of his back. He groaned and sat back on his knees.

“There. I’m vertical. Are you pleased?”

He was not given a reply. The guard seemed distraught and he turned to face back towards the open iron gated door. “You have a new roommate.”

Balthier scoffed. “Lovely. I’ll be sure to give him a proper welcome, then.”

There was some grunting coming from the other side of the gate, but the prison guard was in the way and Balthier was unable to see around him. As the other person was brought in, Ffamran Mid Bunansa only rolled his eyes and turned back to face the sand in front of him – the impression from where he had been lying was able to be seen. As the guard that stood next to Balthier shifted, he went to the other and undid the binds that held his hands fast. He exited the cell with the two guards that escorted the new person into the cell and as he shut and began locking the gate back, he spoke to the prison mates.

“You’d keep your precious room to yourself, but we just received a convicted felon and we needed the extra cell.” He finished just as he turned the key, locking the gate. He looked up into the cell. “Don’t cause any trouble or you might just find yourselves in confinement.”

Balthier’s reply was just putting up his hand and waving it in a manner of dismissal. The guard hit the iron bars with the holster of his weapon, causing them to clang before he walked away.

As his new roommate watched the guard walk off, he adverted his gaze to Balthier who did not bother to even look up at him.

“What? No welcoming party? Is this how you treat your new cellmate?”

Balthier said nothing. He pulled his head up to stare at a crack of sky that could be seen out near the platform.

“I would bid a ‘ _good day_ ,’ but that seems rather pointless in this scenario.”

There was a moment’s pause as the man continued to stare at him, eyes not trailing. Sighing, Balthier turned his head to face the rather large inmate, his new cellmate, which, ironically enough, was the same man from the cell to the left.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Quite, actually. Wondering what all you can do with your back in its current state,” the man said with a strange snicker.

“I’d rather not find that out,” he replied, debating whether or not to lie back down and try to go back to sleep.

“That makes one of us,” the guy said under his breath as he continued to eye the sky pirate.

Ignoring the comment, Balthier sat back on his heels before standing up. He stretched slightly and walked to the iron bars that separated the cell from the platform, thoughts wondering if he could get out of the next session.

As the man continued to watch him, he commented again. “Think we’ll have to break ya of that spoiled little attitude.”

Once again, the brunet chose not to reply, ignoring him and all off his obscene gestures. He wondered how long it would take to pressure the guards into transferring him to a different cell – preferably any one other than the one he was in. With all do respect, he was not fond of the current arrangement.

His thoughts were jerked when a hand gripped his shoulder and he was forced to turn around.

“Personal space, mind you,” he said as he went to take a step back but ended up hitting the iron bars.

“I think you’re going to have to understand who’s in charge here, thief,” the bulky man said harshly, glaring at the twenty three-year-old man. “There’s a few rules you need to get through that pretty little head of yours. First one: if I speak to ya, ya better reply. Second: Keep up that attitude of yours and I’ll rip your voice box out. Third: since we’ll be rooming together, whatever I tell ya to do, you better do it or that platform out there won’t be the only thing you’ll have to worry about. Are we clear?”

“Could you repeat the first one? I don’t think I heard that one correctly.”

That could have gone over better. His reply was a large hand slamming the back of his head against the bars.

“Don’t screw with me, you sky pirate scum or they’ll be carrying ya out of this cell in pieces. Got it?”

The only thing he was able to reply with was ‘un,’ but that seemed suffice and the man released his hold on Balthier’s head. He shook his head the moment it was let go, seeming to have gotten a head rush.

“Now let’s start this over,” the man started as he took a few steps back from Balthier. “Come here.”

Head dizzy and the feeling of an oncoming headache, Balthier felt no need to have that happened again and stepped forward where he was just about a foot away from the guy. The man nodded.

“That’s better.”

Balthier held his head with his right hand, shaking it slightly, trying to rid the current dizziness. Not seeming to care whether or not the brunet just keeled over or not, the bulky man crossed his arms before speaking again.

“Kneel down.”

Thinking he did not hear him correctly, Balthier looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry?”

“Do I have to repeat myself? I said get the hell on your knees; what do you not understand about that?”

Balthier did not move; he just stood, looking at the man with his usual calm expression, one eyebrow raised as if trying to challenge him.

“I would rather not. Quite unsanitary down there, you know.”

This did not go over well and the man brought up his hands, wrapping them around Balthier’s throat, pushing him against the iron bars. The sky pirate took naught a liking to his new position and brought his left hand up, grabbed the man’s right hand and turned, shifting to where he now had the man’s arm pinned behind his back.

“I don’t take too much to having my air supply cut short,” he said calmly as he shifted forward, having the man’s front forced against the bars. “So I suggest we not repeat this little incident,” he finished by giving the other a harsh shove before taking a few steps backwards.

However, when Balthier turned back to face the front of his cell, the man popped his shoulder as he glared up at the back of the sky pirate.

“You filthy thief,” he growled.

Before he even knew what happened, Balthier’s entire upper body was slammed against the front bars to the cell. The back of his head was gripped before his face was bashed repetitively against the iron bars. Not even able to utter so much more than a groan, he was thrown backwards into the sands in the cell, a lovely gash now against his forehead and nose flowing freely with crimson liquid.

His head spun and vision became blurry – he could not even see his surroundings; they were spinning too much.

“You want to do this the hard way, then that’s fine by me,” the man growled as Balthier felt pressure on his torso. His mind could barely function, but he was pretty sure he could feel his leather pants trying to be removed. Mind somewhat functioning, he was aware enough to bring up his leg and give a nice hard kick to the man’s stomach. As his cellmate fell backwards, he rolled over onto his side, trying to stand back up. He wiped some of the blood that was still streaming from his nose as he tried to gather back to his feet; however, his head was spinning so fast that he could not even make it to all fours without falling back down.

When he heard the man behind him shout something, an adrenaline rush flooded throughout him and he managed to quickly scurry to his feet. No sooner was he back to his feet that he was shoved against the bars again, this time the back of his head being slammed into them. While he was dazed, the other took the opportunity to try and force his leather constraints off again. His head pounded with pain the constant free flow of blood from his nose and head was not assisting the matter in any way.

He heard the man curse and one of his legs was forced up. He tried to protest, but was unable to form words other than ‘ung un nnng.’

There was a loud rattling from the front of the cell as one of the guards hit the bars with their blunt weapon.

“Hey! Knock it off in there! And thief, you have a visitor!”

Hearing the guard, the man backed off and let Balthier fall who immediately scurried back to his feet and to the front end of the cell. He gripped the bars and set his head against them, slumping and panting.

“Balthier!”

Balthier pulled his head away from the bars to look up at the blurred figure of Basch fon Rosenburg. A feeling of relief swept through him and he set his head back against the bars.

“Do tell me you’re hear to have me released,” he said, breath fast, but voice oddly calm. He closed his eyes, trying to focus.

“By the gods, Balthier, you require immediate aid!” Basch said as he turned, as if to find someone – anyone willing to assist. He had urge just to break into the cell…had they not have been made of cast iron.

Balthier swallowed and shook his head. “Trying to get aid in this prison? One must be out their right mind.”

Basch turned back, eyebrows furrowed upwards, an angered look on his face with a look of depression set in as well. He reached his hand through the bars of the cell and wiped some of the blood from his ally’s head away.

“We’re trying all we can, Balthier.” Basch paused, waiting to see some movement of recognition from the other. When he nodded, Basch continued. “I’ve spoken with Al-Cid about the situation, but as it would seem, Rozarria’s imperials have just as much power. We have been searching in hopes of finding a loophole, but as of late, there does not seem to be one.”

Balthier took in another deep breath before standing straight and opening his eyes, his vision becoming right. He brought up his hand and wiped blood from his nose and staring at it for a moment before bringing his hand back down and wiping the blood on pants. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, blinking twice before deciding to speak.

“So I don’t suppose there is a way to speed up this process?” He watched as Basch shook his head. He glanced off to the side before bringing his gaze back. “Contrary to what you see, this prison is not nearly as glamorous as one is lead to believe and if, oh say, a falsely accused sky pirate was to be released within a short time span, I do believe that would make a rather joyful scene.” He raised his eyebrows when Basch said nothing, only gave him a remorseful look. “Time is of the essence, you know.”

“Apologies.” Balthier raised a brow. “Time is of value and yet it seems—”

“—that this hare is going to have to wait to find a break in the fence,” Balthier said, finishing the sentence with one of his usual analogies. He sighed and kicked some of the sand with his left foot. “It would not be nearly as challenging if this hare wasn’t trying to ward off a snake.”

When he finished, Basch glanced to the other man in the cell who was leaning against the small rock portion of the wall watching as he and Balthier spoke. He seemed, to Basch, rather impatient – over what, he was not quite sure. Either way it could not have been a good thing. He brought his attention back to the sky pirate when he shifted and went to wipe his nose again with the front of his hand and then wiped the gash on his forehead with the back.

Basch looked down for a moment and seemed to be searching for something within the armour. When Balthier glanced to see what it was he was searching for, Basch found the item and held it out to him. Balthier took the piece of burgundy cloth and gave the Judge a queried look.

“I know it’s not much, but it is the only thing I am able to do…,” he trailed off as he watched Balthier nod, getting the gesture.

Just as he was about to reply with thanks, an arm limped around his shoulder and he scoffed, looking the opposite direction of the other.

“Having a conversation here, if you don’t mind,” the brunet said as he removed the man’s arm from around him. “Quite rude to interrupt when one is indulging in such a matter, don’t you agree?”

He saw Basch’s concerned look as he stared at the bulky, bald-headed man behind his ally. Balthier sighed, shaking his head in an annoyed manner.

“Well, as I remember it, we were in the midst of something before so rudely interrupted,” the man said with a leer.

Balthier brought up his hand that held the piece of cloth to hold his head.

“True, but that wasn’t in mutual agreement; this, however, is and, if you don’t mind, some space would be very much appreciated.” He grabbed the man’s hand and removed his arm from around him, taking a sideways step opposite of him.

Everything seemed to be happening at once when a guard came up to Basch.

“Judge Gabranth, I have just received word from Master Al-Cid and he beckons you at once to meet,” the guard said, giving a shifty-eyed glance towards the two inmates.

Basch nodded and brought his attention to Balthier.

“Balthier—”

“Allow no time spared, _Gabranth_ ,” Balthier interrupted. “The sooner you take care of this nonsense, the sooner I can be back in Archadia. It seems rather fitting, does it not?”

Basch only nodded and began walking with the guard who was escorting him to the exit of the prison. As he took his leave, he glanced back to the brunet’s cell. Balthier’s position had been abandoned and all he saw within the cell was an arm stretching out before quickly concealing itself behind the small rocked corner.


	4. Defile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.

**4  
Defile**

Basch trailed down the hall towards Al-Cid’s office, his helmet under his arm. With things standing as they were, he was hoping that the news about to be relayed to him would be of the utmost use. Still, as of yet, nothing seemed to be in favour of the sky pirate and the entire situation was taking much longer than originally anticipated. He had assumed to come to Rozarria and have Balthier out in the same day, then quickly be on their way back to Archadia.

He stopped suddenly and shook his head. Since he had been in Rozarria, he had yet to report back to Larsa, a mistake that cannot go lightly. The moment that his conference was completed with Al-Cid, he would be sure to send word to the young master. Yet, when he stepped into Al-Cid’s presence, he could sense an aura of dread clouding the room. He walked fully into the office and bowed.

“Word on Balthier’s current situation?” he asked when he stood straight.

Al-Cid was sitting at his desk with his fingers crossed, his forehead upon them, staring at the papers on his desk. When he heard the Judge speak, he raised his head and sighed, shaking it before standing. He picked up a paper and walked to the front of his desk, coming to stand fully in front of Basch. He did not speak word, only looked at the paper, reading it and rereading it several times. The feeling was most uncomfortable and Basch shifted his helmet as he waited for the Head to speak.

Finally, Al-Cid looked up at Basch intently.

“Judge Gabranth…it would appear that the situation—” he paused and put his hand to his face, as if thinking carefully on how to word his sentence. “The situation has become grave, I’m afraid.” He watched Basch exchange a glance of curiosity. Al-Cid said naught a word and held out the paper to the Judge.

Basch hesitated before taking it. He brought it to him and read it over carefully. As he read, Al-Cid adverted his gaze to the side when he watched Basch’s eyes widen. When he finished, he jerked his head up.

“They cannot be serious!”

Al-Cid only shook his head. He looked up at Basch, face stern; that expression alone was one Basch hoped not to see over such a matter.

“I am afraid it is.” He walked passed Basch to the door that was slightly ajar. He pushed it shut and even though Basch’s eyes followed his movement, he did not turn around. After a few intense seconds, he turned. “If your ally is to confess, truth or otherwise, he is to be executed immediately; no questions asked.”

Basch’s expression was wide and he looked back down at the paper. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.

“How can they allow such inhumanity?!”

Al-Cid only shrugged, not knowing anything that could be said. He walked up to Basch and stood merely a foot away from him.

“Judge Gabranth.”

“Sir?”

“You need to get word of this to Balthier as soon as you can. Even the slightest mention that he might have committed the crime will be reason for them to execute him.”

Basch nodded and bowed. “Yes, your grace.”

“No time can be spared, Gabranth. I will arrange transportation for you at once to the prison. By the time you have exited the building, there will be someone waiting to take you there.”

Basch bowed again.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Balthier rolled over onto his side, holding his stomach. He did not know how much more of this he could handle. It was at this time that he was hoping the guards would come to retrieve him for “interrogating.” At least that ended and he could come back to his cell to recuperate. However, now when he was brought back to his cell, it was out of the frying pan and into the oven. He was never able to have a moment to rest - he was constantly trying to fight off his cellmate from being beaten…or worse.

The moment he was down was all the other needed and he bent down, grabbed Balthier’s shoulders and pinned his back to the sand. Balthier cringed as the grains dug into still-fresh wounds. He opened his eyes and narrowed them at the man leering over him, dark eyes peering into his own.

“I told you not to undermine me, you worthless sky pirate!” He switched hands and grabbed Balthier’s wrists, pinning them above the sky pirate’s head with his left hand alone. Balthier jerked to the side, trying to get free, but failed, horribly. “So then,” the man continued as he began undoing Balthier’s belt. “I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” When he finished his sentence, he had the other’s buckle undone.

Balthier jerked again and brought up his leg, trying to kick the man, but the man was too close to his abdomen and not close enough to his legs. As his leather pants began to be pulled down, the inmate stopped suddenly and looked down when he felt regular cloth. Balthier glanced down to see what it was that took the other’s attention, but was answered when the man grinned and looked at him, holding up a burgundy cloth.

Without so much as a word, Balthier was dragged over to the iron bars that separated the cell from the platform area, fighting the whole way. The man traced the cloth through the bars and tied the sky pirate’s hands to them, making it to where the other’s hands were immobile.

When he went back to removing Balthier’s pants, Balthier brought his leg up, trying to kick the man away; however, his attack was intercepted and the inmate pulled the other’s leather pants to just around his ankles and calves. Now, if Balthier felt the need to try that again, he would have to use more energy trying to kick with both instead of just one.

“Back off!” Balthier shouted when the inmate leaned over him. He brought up his knee and tried to knee him in the chest, but the man just laughed at the other’s attempts.

“You brought this upon yourself, thief, when you kicked me in the groin.”

Balthier let out a grunt and tugged his arms, trying to get his wrists free. He pulled up and glared at the other.

“Touch me with those vile hands of yours, and I might just have to remove them.”

“You’re not in any position to threaten me. So if I were you, I’d shut up about now.”

Balthier gritted his teeth and pulled his leg from his pant leg. He brought it up and tried to kick the man across the face, but his ankle was grabbed and instead, the man just positioned himself between the sky pirate’s thighs.

“You’re tough,” he stared as he undid the button and zipper on his own pants. “So I’m guessing you don’t need any preparation.”

Balthier stopped struggling for a moment and stared at what was about to happen. He looked up at the man and jerked back.

“If you so much as touch me with that, I’ll castrate you once I’m released. If you’re willing to accept that and take the chance, then feel free to continue.”

For a moment, the man actually halted his actions. He seemed to think about, but then shrugged. “I think I’ll take the chance,” he said in a sarcastic attitude.

And with that, in one rough movement, his entire length was buried inside the sky pirate.

It did not take long for Balthier to realize which was worse: the lashings or this. The answer was obvious. At least the lashings were only skin deep, but this was the last bit of dignity he had left. As the man pulled out and pushed back in, he felt pressure hit the bottom of his stomach. It was as if someone was inside him, trying to punch their way out.

His eyes shot wide and he had to literally bite his own tongue to keep from shouting. He clamped his eyes shut and bit on his bottom lip, causing it to bleed. The only thing that gave some relief to the pain was the blood that was beginning to drip from the inside of his thighs – it helped to make the other slide in and out with at least a bit of ease.

What seemed like ages passed and when the inmate tensed up, Balthier knew what was coming. The first thing to flash through Balthier’s mind was that it was almost over…that was until the man completely buried himself as he was about to release. Balthier jerked up, ignoring the throbbing pain in his stomach and, wide-eyed, shook his head roughly.

“Stop!” he shouted, but went unheard. “Not inside--” was all he could get out before the other’s seed was spilled inside him. A sickening warmth filled him and Balthier collapsed in a heap. It took him forever to figure out why his body would not stop shaking even after the man pulled out, a small trail of blood following after it. When his hands were finally unbound, he pulled his hand to his face and realized that tears were streaming down his face.

He was crying.

Actually crying.

He sat up and hunched over. He could not even recall the last time he cried. Even when he thought his father was going insane, he did not dare let anything as such seep from his ducts.

His thoughts were interrupted when there was clanging on the bars.

 _A little late for a guard to be showing up_ , was the next thought to run through his head and he let out a laugh that sounded almost inhuman at the thought. He turned his head to see what the commotion was and it did not register that it was Basch standing at the gate with the guard, his expression wide.

The guard turned to look at Basch.

“Ten minutes,” was all he said before he turned on his heel and left.

Seeing that he had to move, Balthier went to stand up, but found that his legs would not heed his commands and he fell to his knees. He looked down, a blank stare on his face and saw the blood trailing down the inside of his thighs. He shook his head and sat down, grabbing his pants and putting them back, though in a daze. As he went to stand, he saw the abandoned burgundy cloth still sitting in the sand. He grabbed it before he made his way over to the Judge.

At first, Basch said nothing; he just gave a worried and sympathetic look to his comrade. That look was something Balthier came to despise. It was as though he was being pitied.

Balthier gripped the iron bars and looked at the ground.

“Balthier—”

Balthier just shook his head. “I assume that you’re not here to have me released,” he interrupted. Basch said nothing. Of course Balthier did not expect him to.

However, Basch did something that Balthier was not expecting. Basch grabbed the bars, but placed his hands over Balthier’s. He gripped them and Balthier looked up, his eyes dull. Basch shook his head and reached his hand through the bars, wiping the other’s face.

“Tears are not suited to that face, Balthier.” At those words, Balthier adverted his gaze. However, Basch grabbed the back of Balthier’s head and kissed his forehead, as if to give the notion that there still were people that cared about his safety and well-being. It may have been a little strange for that action for men of their age, but acceptance has no age limit.

Balthier shook his head and looked up Basch, eyebrows furrowed upwards.

“I don’t know how much longer I can endure this nonsense,” he said, eyes still watering. He started to get aggravated that he was unable to cease his own crying. He felt as though it made him seem weak. _The leading man does not cry_. For some reason, that phrase popped into his head.

“We’re trying all we can, Balthier,” Basch replied, running his hand through the other’s hair. He found it difficult to control his own emotions at the moment. Anger, sorrow, regret— Just about every emotion was flooding through him and he hoped he would be able to cease everything that was being done against the sky pirate. It was the last thing he deserved. “But Rozarrian laws are much more difficult to impute.” He shook his head solemnly. “But, whatever you do, you cannot give into their demands to have you tried.” He saw Balthier’s queried look and also, a look that said he had no intentions of it. He shook his head again. “If you do, your execution is imminent.”

Balthier looked back down at the ground, his face now in disbelief. He looked back up to the Judge. “Just like that, then? No trial? No chance for acquittal?” Basch did not reply, only shut his eyes.

“I promise you that you’ll be released soon, Balthier. I can swear that to you.”

Balthier let his usual half-smirk cross his face. “It’s not a wise idea to spread false hope, Basch.”

Basch shook his head and forced a smile. “I would never.”

They were interrupted as a guard came up behind Basch. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Time’s up.”

Basch just nodded, not bothering to turn around to face the guard. He gave one last look to Balthier and kissed him on the forehead again. “Do not give up, Balthier. We are all still here for you.”

Balthier smiled his usual quirky smile; though his eyes suggested feeling differ. He extracted his hand from Balthier’s face and slowly slid his other hand that was still lying on Balthier’s off. As he walked off, he turned back to see Balthier still watching him, his smile gone and his eyes blind, as though they were staring into the distance.


	5. Comeback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.

**5  
Comeback**

Balthier sat in the corner of his cell, back against the rock-portioned wall, head pressed against it as well. He had his knees bent and his arms sitting on them with eyes shut, trying to rest. Any time now a guard would come to take him to the platform for further interrogation and, though it sounded bitter, he was looking forward to it. Anything to get him away from those eyes that stalked him whenever he moved. He lightly hit his head on the wall and groaned as he let his head fall forward. At this rate, he would age another year before he was even released and he definitely had no intentions of letting that happen.

He opened his eyes and stared blankly in front of him as those thoughts drifted through his head. Maybe it would not have been so bad had he at least known what the item was that he was accused of stealing. At least that would put some portion of his mind to rest – or so he hoped. Whatever it was, no one seemed bent on telling him and, if anything, that was causing him more aggravation.

He looked up when he heard rattling on the bars to the cell. It was the usual guard that unlocked his cell to take him to the platform. Only this time, the guard was accompanied by two others that stood behind him, waiting for a cue: for what? Balthier had not the slightest idea. The door was unlocked and the guard stepped back to let the two others inside the cell. Balthier stood, not feeling up to being jerked to his feet. He dusted his pants off and looked at the two guards.

“Pretty sure I know the way now.”

The two said naught and, instead, one of them grabbed his forearm and pulled him out of the cell. Yet, instead of being taken towards the platform, he was headed in the opposite direction. Balthier only looked in confusion. This was oddly strange. Was he being taken to speak to the head of the prison? Maybe they would finally listen to his side of the story and his claims that he stole naught a thing.

He was taken up several flights of stairs that led to a door and a room that had no outside windows. Was this the office of the Head or something else? He was not sure, nor did he ask, fearing that, whatever it was, would be much worse than the platform. The guard that opened his cell took out his keys and unlocked the door. He opened it and allowed the two guards that were assisting Balthier into the room – he followed in behind, shutting the door behind him.

Balthier did no more than look around the room. It was bare for the most part – except for what lie in the corner of the room. Were his eyes deceiving him or did he see an iron trough with red coals? He was not able to look at it long enough, whereas he was forced to kneel down with his back to it. The two guards that assisted him inside the room held his arms to where he could not move. He pulled, trying to see if he could get out of the hold, but when he did, he felt his shoulder pop. The guards had him held to where if he moved, he would pop his shoulders out of place.

He heard clanging behind him and tried to turn to look, but failed. The guard that unlocked the door walked around to the front of the sky pirate with –

No. His eyes were deceiving him. They had to.

Was the guard holding a branding iron?

The guard just snickered. “Time to label you as the thief you are,” was all he said.

The branding iron he held was red hot in the form of a ‘T.’ Balthier jerked his head off to the side as the guard brought the iron closer to the right side of his face.

* * *

“In their eyes, he has already been convicted. Less we can discover but another way to claim what has been lost, things do not bode well.”

“I’m becoming annoyed with that line.”

“As am I.”

Basch did nothing more than nod, eyes adverted towards the ground, though not focusing on anything in particular. Al-Cid just stood in front of him, leaning on his desk with his arms folded. No matter how they tried to think of a way, getting a claim on Balthier’s innocence seemed almost impossible. With an added bonus, Al-Cid could not get in contact with the head of the prison to set up a meeting. Hope was falling through the drain to the ditch as it slowly became a realization. With all the knowledge they had it seemed just about impossible to have him freed. Unless they could find proof that he stole nothing, he would be damned. Basch was becoming more and more agitated with the situation – the feeling of being useless was not one he was currently fond of.

Nevertheless, he refused to give up. When he first met the sky pirate and the group in the Nalbina Dungeons, Balthier was unusually quick to trust him – unlike he was towards Balthier. It had taken time before he felt as though he was able to trust the sky pirate – the title itself giving reason to his doubt. Yet, as time had progressed, he realized that he could trust this man with his life. Now, Balthier’s life was in his hands and there seemed to be nothing he could do.

Al-Cid seemed to sense his unease and he released a sigh, shaking his head.

“If I could discover what the item is that he has supposedly stolen,” Al-Cid began, causing Basch to look back up at him, “it would be a much more likely possibility that we could claim his innocence. If we happen to stumble upon the ‘stolen’ item and return it to its predecessors, he would therefore become a free man.”

Basch seemed to think for a moment before looking back to the Rozarrian Head. “Have you a way to find this information?”

Al-Cid shrugged. “The likelihood is quite slim, but I suppose it cannot cause harm to undertake. I will make contact with the imperials and try to discover the correct answer.” When he finished, he stood straight, putting his hands to his sides. “As for the while, I would very much appreciate if you would find more information on our friend’s current situation. In the meantime, I will see what I can find out about this prized treasure.”

Basch bowed. “Many thanks.”

When Al-Cid nodded, Basch turned on his heel to leave the room, the iron armor clanking with each step. When he exited the office, and the door shut behind him, he sighed, shaking his head with aggravation before placed his helm back over his head.

All of this jumping around made him feel like a winged bird in an iron cage. No matter how hard he tried to find the freedom of the bars, the cage kept them locked tight. He cursed under his breath as he began walking down the hall, wondering if it would be possible to get into see Balthier again, hoping that the man was all right.

* * *

“How’s that for ya? Feel nice?”

The inmate shoved the right side of Balthier’s face into the sand as he thrust in again from the back. This was not what the sky pirate had been looking forward to after coming back – being attacked by his cellmate was not on his list. Water seeped from his tear ducts as he was slammed into again and he continually cursed at himself for appearing so pathetic. After everything that had gone on, he had little strength left. Day by day his physical strength was tested and weakened, as well as his mental strength, which had plummeted in just a few days.

He began to feel hopeless, realizing that his chances of being released were slim to none. To top it all off, some guard was getting his jollies watching the scene and this made Balthier hate himself even further.

The sun had already set, so the prison was drenched in darkness, other than a few lamps on the outsides of cells that gave off a bit of dim light. The only bit of optimism he had was a short period of rest he would be able to have once the inmate was through with him. There were no interrogations at night, which would give the sky pirate a bit of time to regain some of his strength, and it was a strong likelihood that his cellmate would rest as well. He would just have to bare it out until then.

Bit nails dug into his side as the inmate gripped to keep hold, shedding a slight amount of crimson liquid. The only relief to the situation was that at least this time the bulky inmate did use something as a lubricant to make the ride a little easier. He said that he would go easier on the sky pirate because Balthier obeyed when he told him what to do – the brunet not having the physical capability to even try warding off his foe. He feared that if he put up a fight, he would not live to see daylight the next day. The only drawback to the ‘lubricant’ the inmate was using was that it was Balthier’s own blood.

He bit his teeth and cringed, releasing a broken yell as he tried to sustain from doing just that. When the inmate tensed, so did Balthier, preparing for what he knew was to come, but instead the man just pulled out before shoving Balthier’s head one last time into the sands.

“Get up and finish the job,” was his command.

It took a moment for Balthier’s mind to register what he meant. He felt his heart sink when he came to the realization. His throat became dry and pursed his lips together, climbing to all fours and turning around to face the other inmate who had stood up. He suddenly felt nauseous, but he just shut his eyes, swallowed hard and opened his mouth. The man waited naught and grabbed the back of Balthier’s head, forcing his entire length into the sky pirate’s mouth. Balthier gagged and began coughing hysterically, the motions just reverberated the other’s length. He did not even have to do anything, the other took care of that and made Balthier move his head front and back.

The inmate let his head fall backwards as he left Balthier to work on his own and instead ran his hands through Balthier’s hair. “That’s a good little thief,” he practically moaned.

If it was not everything else, it was this that made Balthier completely disgusted with himself. He had gone from being a free sky pirate, able to roam the skies freely and never heed to anyone’s will but his own to a fallen sky pirate who had to obey everyone and everything around him.

_How the mighty fall,_ was the phrase to suddenly flutter across his mind.

The man cursed as he grabbed both sides of Balthier’s head and began thrusting in, the other coughing and gagging with each thrust. The after part was no better when he filled Balthier’s mouth and throat. His first instinct was to pull back to spit out the foreign substance, but instead the man just held his head in place and leered down at him.

“Uh-uh, thief. Drink up.”

At this one line, Balthier’s chest began to shake up and down and the man removed himself, a bit of his seed flowing after, running down Balthier’s chin. He watched with a stern look as he covered himself up and watched as the sky pirate’s bottom lip shook. Balthier clamped his eyes shut as he swallowed, a bitter taste being left.

The man turned to walk past Balthier, leaving the brunet to just stare blankly in front of him. “We’ll pick it back up in the morning,” was all he said as he walked to the other end of the cell.

Balthier shut his eyes. He opened them back and turned his head to look outside the cell, the guard that had been standing there just snickered before turning on his heel and walking away. The brunet shifted to pull his pants up, his stare still blank as he felt as though he was in a daze. From a ways away, he heard the clanking of metal armor – he instantly recognized the steps.

He chuckled a strange laugh that did not sound sane.

_At least he did not appear sooner_ , Balthier thought to himself with a clear twisted and warped sense of humour.

Right on cue.

Even in the dim lighting, Balthier could make out the armoured form of Basch, the Judge carrying his helm under his arm as always. He shook his head and walked, though more like stumbled, over, the guard that stood with him not bothering to make them known when he saw that Balthier noticed them. The guard looked to Basch and held up his thumb, signaling ten minutes. Basch nodded and turned his head back to Balthier who grabbed the iron bars and set his head on them, fatigue flushing over him.

The inmate was right. It was easier for him to not put up a fight.

For some reason, Balthier hated the fact that he thought that.

“I cannot do this anymore,” Balthier said breathlessly before Basch said a word.

Basch knitted his eyebrows together and was about to ask, but Balthier just looked up at him, his eyes red and puffy, though the tears had stopped earlier. Balthier let out a strange laugh. “I have been…labeled.”

“Balthier-?”

Basch stopped short when his eyes fell on the large ‘T’ that was branded onto the side of Balthier’s face. His mouth fell open, eyes widening. They branded him as though he were mere cattle. 

“By the gods….”

“What is the point of having freedom if I am labeled a thief?” Balthier asked, obviously meaning the question as he looked at Basch with his eyebrows furrowed upwards – the tears that had stopped came flooding back and he jerked his head down. He let out a strange laugh again. “It is pointless, after all.”

Basch could handle it no longer. This was inhuman and no person should ever have to endure it – let alone endure it alone. He dropped his helm and reached his arms through the bars, embracing Balthier as best he could. As if they realized they no longer needed to support him, Balthier’s knees gave out from under him. He never realized it before, but such a meaningful and welcoming embrace had his emotions falter. It had been merely a week since he was placed within the walls of the prison, but it seemed like years – as though all human affection was void. Even before, he could not recall the last time he was either giving or receiving any form of human affection – it caused his chest pain.

“I’m sorry, Balthier,” Basch said in a gentle whisper, feeling the other’s body start to shake. “I will have you released from here – by the gods, I swear it.”

Sometime within the next few minutes, Balthier’s legs could no longer handle any weight and he dropped to the sands on the cell floor. Basch supported him when his weight fell, and for the remaining time, they both sat on the ground on opposite sides of the cell wall. Basch had both of his hands through the bars; one was holding Balthier’s hand and the other was lightly running his fingers through the Balthier’s hair.

Words were not spoken, but the feeling of acceptance was all the sky pirate wanted – all he needed.

When the time was over, a guard walked up behind Basch.

“It’s been ten.”

Basch glanced over his shoulder at the guard and nodded before turning back to face Balthier, who was still staring at the ground in front of him. Basch brought up his other hand and held Balthier’s face, making it to where they were peering into each other’s eyes.

“I will come back for you, Balthier. I swear that to you,” he started, wiping away traces on Balthier’s cheek with his thumb. “Please do not give up.”

The only reply he received was a nod.

The guard impatiently coughed behind Basch and the Judge brought his arms back through the bars to set at his sides before standing up. He turned to leave with the guard, but not before looking back to Balthier. The younger male was still sitting on the ground, watching Basch walk away – his eyes almost dead. Basch could only give a forced, reassuring smile before he turned and left with the guard.


	6. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthier's imprisoned and forced to make a confession of something for which he claims that he is innocent. When an Archadian Judge catches wind of what has happened, he is determined to find out the truth.

**6  
Forgotten**

“How many days have they denied your access?” Al-Cid asked, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on his desk.

Basch’s brow furrowed. “Four. I know not why.”

“Is it not obvious?” The Rozarrian glanced to some papers on his desk, as though not wanting to state the reason. “To the Council, you are impeding the conviction of a thief. They would hope to acquire a confession from a broken man.” Basch’s entire expression dropped. He had suspected, but very much he had prayed it not to be truth. “We can only hope our friend has the strength to withstand.”

The judge’s eyes cast downward as he took in the information he had already suspected. He could feel his heartbeat quicken: the last time he had seen Balthier, his ally had hardly seemed capable of withstanding much more of the torture he had been put through. His entire being had been shattered. He and Al-Cid had spent much time trying to find a way around the Rozarrian Prison laws to get Basch back inside, but thus far they had come up with naught.

With everything going in the wrong direction, he feared for Balthier’s well-being and found himself praying to the gods that he would not give in to the prison demands.

The large door at the end of Al-Cid’s quarters clanged as it opened.

“Sir,” a young woman spoke as she entered the room, garnering both of their attentions. “There is a viera asking for your presence.”

Basch glanced to Al-Cid, who pushed off of his desk and waved his hand. “Granted.”

The woman nodded and bowed before exiting the room. Not a moment after, Fran walked into the room, pushing the door well open, leaving it to bang shut behind her. Her strides towards them were an unspoken frustration. She stopped short of the Rozarrian and, after a quick glance to Basch, focused all of her attention solely on Al-Cid.

“The item claimed stolen is in the hands of its owner,” Fran spoke as her head followed Al-Cid. Her eyes then fell on Basch, whose face was befuddled. “Not of my doing, with that face,” was her response, which only deepened his curiosity.

It was strange, carrying on in others’ presence, acting as though they hardly knew each other. As far as the outside world was concerned, they knew nothing of each other and only associated because of the commonality of the imprisoned Archadian. Even Al-Cid could not know the man he believed to be Judge Gabranth was really Basch fon Ronsenberg. Though it might have been safe to allow this man to know, they could not risk it and the consequences that would undoubtedly follow.

“A farce, then.” Both of their attentions were pulled to Al-Cid, who was now behind his desk and sifting through papers. Seeming to find what he was looking for, he grabbed a pen and began writing hastily. “If we are to free our friend, we will need that item; which is?”

“A tiara.” He faced his head back to the paper. Before Basch could comment, she followed up with, “Embedded with nethicite. An heirloom to a judge.”

Al-Cid’s head was nodding as he continued to write. “The name to this judge—”

“Judge Malst.”

He stopped writing, appearing stunned before bringing his gaze to stare intently at Fran. Basch pulled his attention to Al-Cid, eyebrows pressed together, questioning the change in demeanor. “Judge Malst? You are certain?” his voice was filled with ambiguity. When she nodded, his shoulders tensed, but he nodded, nonetheless, and returned to writing the paper. As he finished, he set the pen down, staring down at his written script. An air of silence filled the room, and then he released an aggravated shout and slammed his fists on the desk. “To think a high judge to be responsible for this act is a disgrace to the Empire! It brings shame! Judge Gabranth”—he pulled his head up to meet eyes with Basch—“you will escort me to the Rozarrian House. I shall confront Judge Malst about these acts and be granted our friend’s release.” He stood with the paper in hand and folded it as he walked around his desk. “Lady Fran, if you would rather, a flight to Rabanastre can be arranged for your immediate return.”

She slowly nodded her head. “A kind act, that; but yet, without Balthier’s escort, I will remain.” She turned to look at Basch. “You will return him?”

A quick nod as a response. “You have my word.”

“Come,” Al-Cid spoke quickly as he passed Basch to walk to the door. “We make haste.”

Another acknowledgement to Fran, and then he followed after Al-Cid, the door clanging as it opened and shut.

* * *

Balthier failed to hold back a shout as a foot made contact with his abdomen. Curled into the fetal position, trying to protect himself, his arms found their way up to cover his head and face with his hands and forearms. When his cellmate’s foot pulled back, he was half-expecting it to be over, that was until the man’s foot came down, slamming on the side of his ribs. The man finally stopped and stepped back, leaving Balthier to collapse into the sand, panting and groaning in agony. Every breath pushed his lungs against his cracked and bruised ribs, making him wheeze and hold back crying pains.

It was hard to believe that the assault occurred for something he had naught to do.

The guards had shoved him back into the cell after an interrogation, having him fall into the bulky cellmate, to which the man did not take lightly.

Reaching down, the man grabbed Balthier’s arm, dragging him to his feet before shoving him against the bars showing opposite the platform. He grabbed the bars for support, still panting as his heart raced and pounded violently in his chest. The only thing to escape his throat when he felt the inmate pull at the band to his leather pants was a muffled groan. Once his pants were down his thighs, the bulky man grabbed the cheeks of his buttocks and pressed himself up against the sky pirate. With his legs spread farther apart, one of the man’s hands left his skin to take himself out of the confinement of his own pants. Pressing his hand back against Balthier’s backside, he gave his bum a harsh squeeze, then inserted himself, getting a unwilling cry from the brunet’s throat.

He would have thought he would be used to this treatment by now.

Every day – multiple times a day – he was subjected to this type of behavior. His back still bled from the most recent “interrogation,” which the inmate had made certain to rub sand into. His health had well declined, his body frail and malnourished, his mind in no better shape.

His grip tightened around the bars and his face contorted as the man roughly shoved himself back in, his paces getting faster.

Balthier groaned.

He was ready for this to end – he was not sure how much more he could handle. Days had passed since he had spoken with the Archadian Judge, which only had him believing that there was no way to have him freed from this prison and that Basch had just given up.

He would not blame him.

Hands found their way to his neck, gripping around his throat and cutting off his airway. With one hand still holding the bar, his other reached for the hand around his neck as he tried prying the man’s fingers off. His face turned red and he became more frantic the longer he went without hair, his nails digging into the man’s hands. The only response he received was the grip tightening as splashes of white light flashed across his vision. His other hand faltered, falling from the bar as his strength left him, and he felt his body being shoved against the bars.

Suddenly, the hands left his throat and he began coughing and sucking in breath-after-breath. He felt the weight of the inmate pull off of him and he collapsed to the sands, his own hands at his throat. As his senses came back, he grabbed the band of his leather pants as he tried to make his way back to a stand; the inmate had been pulled off of him by a duo of guards. He barely had his pants back on when one of the guards grabbed his arm to pull him out of the cell.

Out of the pan and into the fire.

His head spun and his chest tightened, knowing what was coming. The marks on his back still burned and stung from before and just the thought of more being added about had him breaking down. The last time lashes were added, he had no longer been able to hold back and he screamed. For the first time since being put behind the walls, his vocals finally betrayed him and he lost it.

He could not go through it again.

Not again.

His entire body tensed as they forced him in front of them and he heard the cell door clang shut behind him. His hands were bound to his back and, as they passed in front of other cells, some of the other inmates taunted him, snickering and laughing, others flashing obscene gestures. The remarks that were called towards him were no different than usual. His originally form-fitting pants were now sagging, and he had nearly tripped over them more than once. As the door that would lead to the passage out to the platform came closer and closer to his view, his heart began beating viciously, blood rushed to his head and his breathing became quick.

No.

He would not let it happen again; and when the front guard opened the large door, Balthier felt his eyes sting as he shook his head, saying the very words he had been so determined to stay away from.

* * *

Basch stood outside of the Rozarrian Capitol Prison with two imperials that were under Al-Cid’s order. A prison guard read over a letter he had just extracted from an envelope handed to him by the judge, expression impassive as his eyes traced over it. When he looked back up to Basch, his expression was vague while the Archadian Judge’s was stern. Handing the script back to him, the guard stood straight and placed his hand to his chest in the manner of a salute. “Quite right, sir. Please allow me to escort you to Director Graams.” With a nod, the guard stood back and turned on his heel, taking the lead to direct the judge and imperials.

After entering a stone overhang, the stairs that led upwards were made of wood and wrapped around the outside of the prison’s inner walls. The two imperials took stance at the bottom while Basch ascended with the guard to a tattered wooden door. The guard rapped on the door before pushing it open. He held his hand up to Basch. “Wait here.” Another nod from the judge and the guard disappeared through the door – it clanked shut behind him. Basch stood impatiently, the look on his face giving away his aggravation. He looked back at the letter, rereading the words and releasing a sigh as he did. Shifting his helmet under his arm, he looked back up as the door opened and the guard stepped back out, face apprehensive. Blatantly nervous about what he was about to say, he inhaled and stood straight. “Apologies, Judge Gabranth, but it seems that our Director is currently unaccounted for.”

Basch’s entire persona fell. “Unaccounted for? Then where has he taken residence?” The way the guard adverted his gaze answered all of the questions Basch could have asked. With an obvious look of anger and aggravation, Basch turned on his heel – the guard, startled, reached his arm out, expression shocked.

“Uh, sir—!”

“The responsibility will be mine,” he said coarsely as he descended, passing the two waiting imperials at the end. Without even stopping, and as the two began to follow in his haste steps, Basch commanded: “Jarthe, find me the key holder of the East Block; Brahms, remain and await if the director is to return.”

“Sir!” they both said as they went in separate directions.

He did not even sport an ounce of acknowledgement to the guards positioned outside of the inner walls, which housed the prisoners. Perhaps it was the manner in which he strode the reason they chose not to pursue, but he paid it no heed, his sole focus on his entrapped ally. As he entered the right area of the prison, his ears were filled with the loud noise of inmates yelling and shouting. It seemed louder than he recalled. As his feet dug into the sand with his harsh steps, his eyes fell upon the cell that had been housing the sky pirate, but one thing appeared out of place: the cell door was opened. Though it could have been because Balthier was out on the platform, he recalled the other inmate being held in the same cell, so this was highly unlikely.

His steps increased to where he was at a jog, his armor shaking.

“Balthier?” Basch said as he came through the prison to the sky pirate’s cell, but the cell lay bare. He looked around – not even the bulky man was in the cell; it just stood open. He walked into the cell to see the brunet on the platform, this time the rope not around his wrists, but hanging loosely around his neck. His stare was blank as he stared at a section of the platform in front of him, mouth slightly open. His hands were behind his back and the bangaa that was the usually promoter of torture came up behind him and began to tighten the rope.

Basch’s eyes stood wide and he called out his comrade’s name again, but it carried naught over the loud yells and shouts amongst the other inmates. He jerked his head to the inmate in the right cell: a scrawny man that appeared to have been living in the prison much too long.

“What are they doing?!” his voice shouted, panic stricken.

The person just looked at him, eyes bulging against a thin face. “He confessed and the sentence was carried out. The little thief’s about to be hanged.”

Basch jerked his head back and gripped the iron bars and began screaming for his ally over and over. He growled and ran out of the cell, trying to find his way out to that platform or at least where he could get the executioner’s attention. Yet, all hope of finding a door leading out seemed hopeless and when the shouts and cheers intensified, Basch almost skidded to a stop outside of a cell that a guard was about to go into to break up a fight. As he pushed passed the guard, he punched one of the inmates, leaving them dazed, and yelled at the guard to find a way to cease the execution. The guard, appearing dumbstruck, quickly left after noting that both of the inmates had quit their fighting. Basch’s full attention turned back to the inner area, where Balthier still stood dead-eyed on the platform.

The bangaa’s position had shifted and he now stood by a rather large lever. The rope now fully secured around Balthier’s neck.

“Balthier!” he began shouting. “Stop!! STOP THE EXECUTION!!”

His voice did not carry over the roars of the inmates and he released another growl, taking leave of the cell. Running as quickly as he could, his helmet long dropped to the sands, he found the large wooden door that Balthier had undoubtedly been brought through time and time again. Grabbing the wrought-iron handle, he began pulling as hard as he could, but the door refused to budge. He started pounding on it, yelling for someone to open it, but it became apparent that no one was on the other end. Face red, eyes burning and heart frantic, he released a yell and ran back through the prison, ending up at the same cell, where the one inmate was still incapacitated and the other was nowhere to be seen.

“BALTHIER!”

His hands were gripping the bars with such force, feeling became lost. All he could do was continue to yell his ally’s name over and over, but it meant naught and the bangaa pulled down on the lever, releasing the floor underneath Balthier’s feet.

Basch just stood - eyes wide as unnoticed waters streaked his face.

The rope swung back and forth and the shouts continued throughout the prison, but Basch’s muscles finally loosened and the paper he had been carrying around fell to the sands.

  _We, the Judge Magistrates of the Rozarrian Capitol Prison, hereby note the innocence of Ffamran mied “Balthier” Bunansa and state that he be released a free man.  
_

_Signed,_

_Magistrate Halmes_

_Rozarrian Head of Council_

* * *

Basch sat on a bench on the outer deck of one of the side towers in the Archadian Palace, his expression blank as he stared at the burgundy cloth he held in his hands. The only thing he had been able to offer the sky pirate as some form of comfort was now covered in his ally’s dried blood, permanently staining the fabric. They had found it on Balthier’s person, shoved into a false pocket, as though to keep it hidden from others’ view. Folding it over his index finger and thumb, Basch shut his eyes and brought it up, setting it on his closed mouth as he inhaled the strong scent of the other.

The last physical being of his fallen friend.

Sunlight flooded through the arches in a cruel irony, bleeding its early morning glare through the palace streets below. He had not spoken since arriving in the city and stood stone-faced while the priest spoke at Balthier’s funeral, which had been held at the break of dawn that morning.

A funeral for a twenty-three-year-old man.

A funeral that should not have even been.

For the second time in his life, he was forced to witness the death of a beloved ally and attend their service; but Rasler’s was different. That had occurred on a battlefield – one expected to lose friend and foe alike. There had been no just reason for Balthier’s to even transpire. He had been an innocent man forced into something he had naught to do. All so a corrupt Judge could claim to convict—

His fist made contact with the stone bench.

The pain that came with it was a welcome.

He opened his eyes to stare at the cloth, which had fallen to the ground.

“ _I will come back for you, Balthier. I swear that to you_.”

The last words he had spoken.

The final words he had ever said to Balthier…and they had been a lie. He never made it back to him and he had to wonder what the younger man thought when Basch had not returned. Did he think him a liar? Did he think Basch had given up on him? Abandoned him, even? Would the brunet still be alive if Basch had been able to make it back?

A sharp jolt shot into his chest when the answers to each question echoed a harsh “yes.”

He shut his eyes, memories flooding back to the Nalbina Dungeons, where he had been held after being falsely accused himself. Even if it was a chance meeting, Balthier had undoubtedly saved not only his life, but all Dalmasca and Archadia. The fates had been just, and even when he still stood guilty to the others’ eye, Balthier had not been as quick to believe, not even when the public turned their backs on him.

 _“I didn’t see him kill anyone_ ,” Balthier’s voice echoed around in his mind in response to Vaan calling him a traitor. With the world against him, the sky pirate did not bother believing the words of the Empire and accepted him. And yet, when it was Balthier standing accused, Basch had originally been convinced the sky pirate guilty.

He had not even trusted Balthier until they had started to actually know each other. He had looked at him as a thief and nothing more – disgusted at how the sky pirate could desecrate tombs in search of meaningless trinkets.

But then he got to know him and saw what the man had been through; the death of his mother, watching his father be driven into madness, not even having a single soul to watch after him or care what had happened. Yet, Balthier would care for others without question, though he would not let that on. Willing to risk his life for another, not caring of any consequence.

The gods must be laughing at the sardonicism which plagued him now.

 _“Because of Balthier’s false conviction, an internal investigation took place, freeing many innocent people. Perhaps a silver lining of an atrocious misconduct,”_ Al-Cid spoke in somber tone, trying to get Basch to not experience the guilt he knew the Judge undoubtedly felt.

 _“If this was the consequence, then the price was too much,”_ Basch had responded hastily, his tone harsh. _“An innocent man – a good man – was brutally beaten, tortured and violated for a false confession. You ask me if the outcome came at too high a cost? Then my answer is yes. A free man was branded a thief and executed for a lie. Even one innocent life is too much.”_

His eyes started to burn and he tore his gaze away, tracing the ground.

A sharp pang jabbed at his chest as the visual memory of Balthier’s execution returned to his mind. If he had only arrived sooner, his ally would still be alive, standing next to him. All of the images of his ally’s battered form came rushing to him; his frail voice the last time they had spoken, all of his energy gone – his will shattered. The expression on Fran’s face spoke the loudest, though. He had promised to have Balthier back – to bring him back safe. The look behind her eyes…. She had said nothing, merely nodded her head in that slow manner that she understood, but she disapproved, before leaving Basch’s and Al-Cid’s presence, due to head back on her own. Basch heavily doubted she would go back to Archadia, so it was speculated that she would return to Rabanastre.

Either way, the feelings she felt were just.

Basch knew he deserved whatever hate and despise would be delivered to him. He made a promise and he failed it. Yet, it was not the promise to Fran that had him up in arms, but the promise he had given to Balthier.

The words continued to ring in his ears and his anger only grew.

The ‘T’ that was branded to the side of Balthier’s face flooded his vision and just holding the cloth that he had given to his friend built a boiling rage inside him. Gripping it tight, he released a shout and threw it, but it merely floated a few feet away, only being carried a few extra feet by the wind that had blown through the arches.

It was not fair: Balthier deserved none of it.

He had been plagued so much in his life, the last thing he would ever deserve was being treated as such. He would not wish that on any man he knew, no matter the despise.

A fog built up in his vision as saltwater invaded his ducts and the sunlight turned to hazes, casting halos. It should not have ended this way. Rather, he and Balthier should have been on the airship, returning together to Archadia and laughing about the fallacies of the Rozarrian Empire.

The halos in front of his vision began dancing, swirling to a mystic blue and forming shapes in his eyes. As they continued to move, he tried blinking them away, but the orbs moved to form the outline of a being – a hume. He shook his head and blinked several times, trying to get his vision to go back to normal, but as the orbs shaped into familiar features, he found himself keeping his eyes open, so as not to distort or rid the form. His mind was playing cruel tricks on him. When his reflexes finally kicked in and forced him to blink, the form was still there and his heart fell to his bowels.

“Bal – Balthier?” Basch’s eyes became wide seeing the almost-mystic form of his ally standing only feet away from him. A light smile ghosted over Balthier’s face. As though studying the judge’s tormented expression, he brought his hand up to touch the side of Basch’s face; though Basch could not feel it physically, his eyes glazed over at the sensation. Slowly losing his composure, Basch came out with, “I am sorry.” Water befell his face when he blinked. “I am so sorry, Balthier. I should have—” He cut himself off as he took his own hand and put it over where he knew the others’ was. Whether the form be truth or lie, he did not care. All that mattered was that he was witnessing his ally standing before him – he cared naught of the falsehood.

The form followed Basch’s lead as he brought his hand down, keeping his hand in contact with Balthier’s; he looked down as he let his fingers grasp the sky pirate’s hand, watching carefully. Looking back up, he saw Balthier watching their hands. As Basch uncurled his fingers, Balthier looked back to him. “Please. Forgive me?”

With the ghost of a smile still on his face, the image brought its arms up and placed them around Basch’s neck and shoulders in a faint embrace. Shutting his eyes, Basch did the same, only lightly laced his arms around Balthier’s back. His heart hammered in his chest as a pang weighted itself in his stomach at not being able to physically feel the hold. His mind could only act as though the feeling was there and more water traced his face at the realization.

Could this have been the same as when Princess Ashe had seen Rasler?

Basch felt a streak of water befell his face. “Balthier,” he whispered, his chest aching. He pulled back at the same time the mystic-form did. Peering into his eyes, Basch was able to see all of the pain and torment Balthier had experienced through them; the physical and the mental: from his mother’s death, the leave of his older siblings, his father’s drive into madness, the abandonment of his home, the killing of his father, only to be disowned even to the end. It was as though the anguish from the prison was merely a scratch added to a life full of misery and running.

However, behind the tired eyes was also a sense of reprieve – freedom from the confines of a life that had been over long ago. Slowly shutting his eyes, the image leaned forward to meet their lips. Feeling his entire body become completely overwrought with shear regret, tears flowed from Basch’s ducts as he shut his eyes, imaging the sensation to such a sense that he was able to feel it.

He stayed like that for a long moment, his mind taking over entirely.

The desperation to feel Balthier in his presence was overwhelming.

The softness of the other’s lips, the breath that did not even exist—

Yet, when Basch opened his eyes, he stood alone.

He looked around, but there was no trace of Balthier’s mystic form in any direction. He cast his eyes downwards.

Had he imagined the entire thing?

When he brought his hand up, his expression fell soft.

The burgundy cloth had returned to his hand, still stained. He held it to his chest and cast his eyes out of the archway just as the wind picked back up, blowing clean air to his face. Smiling through the dampness and the pain, his voice trailed out with, “You will never be forgotten, Balthier. And that, by the gods, I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


End file.
